


Calculating an Intervention

by Chaos_Squirrel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Acting Principal Coulson is a Treasure, Clint makes it better, Established Relationship, Feels, M/M, Mash-up of MCU and Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon, Phil Coulson goes a little crazy, Schmoop, The Avengers shouldn't do group phone calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaos_Squirrel/pseuds/Chaos_Squirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's undercover assignment takes him off the deep end. Clint intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calculating an Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> So…this actually turned out a lot less cracky than I was anticipating. And a lot more feels-like. 
> 
> The premise of this comes from episode 1x03 of Ultimate Spider-Man, and as a result is set in a weird mash-up of that series and an AU of the MCU (i.e. Not compliant with anything after Avengers). Also, SHIELD is headquartered in NYC, for reasons I have not bothered to articulate. 
> 
> There are references to the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon, but you don’t have to have seen it to understand this fic. Though I highly recommend the cartoon. It is delightful. 
> 
> Many thanks to Chiaroscuro for the beta and continuing to put up with me in general. 
> 
> Disclaimer: *approaches wishing well* *tosses in penny* *wishes to own the thing* *nothing happens* *is sad*

“If this is about the thing with Thor at the Central Park Zoo, I want it on record that it was Stark’s idea,” Clint said as he walked into Fury’s office.

 

Fury’s eye narrowed. “What ‘thing with Thor at Central Park?’”

 

Clint blinked. “Nothing. Phil must have pushed the paperwork through.”

 

“Barton.” There was a note of warning in Fury’s voice and the vein in his forehead the junior agents voted to call “Hawkeye” (by secret ballot) was starting to make an appearance.

 

“Trust me, sir. You’re better off not knowing. Think of your blood pressure,” Clint said as he flopped into one of the available chairs. “So if this isn’t about the thing I know nothing about, what’s going on?”

 

“It’s about Agent Coulson,” Fury said.

 

Clint sat straight up. “What about him? Is he all right? I told you sending him in without back up was a bad idea.”

 

Fury looked distinctly unimpressed. “You were overruled, Agent Barton. By myself and Coulson.”

 

Clint scowled at that reminder. Loki’s staff may have missed Phil’s heart (by centimeters, but Clint was still counting it as a miss), but getting impaled anywhere on the body was rarely a good thing. The senior agent had only been out of medical for two months when the assignment had come in and was still doing physical therapy.

 

The other Avengers were unhappy with losing their liaison/babysitter so soon after getting him back, but neither Tony’s rants nor Steve’s “Captain America does not agree” lectures had proven effective. For his part, Clint had argued, cajoled and pouted. He’d even gone so far as to threaten to withhold sex (or what passed for sex while Phil was banned from all “strenuous” activity). But in the end, Phil had taken the mission.

 

“So what happened?” Clint asked, trying to relax. Fury wasn’t assembling the Avengers or scrambling agents, so whatever it was couldn’t be too bad.

 

“Coulson’s gone fucking native,” Fury said.

 

“He’s undercover as an acting principal at a high school. How do you go native?” Clint asked.

 

“He’s thrown himself into the role. He kept muttering about the damn school’s budget while we were dealing with the kids’ field trip to Latveria,” Fury said.

 

Clint filed away the bit about the super kids Fury had decided to raise for later. “He was talking about the budget,” he repeated. “Are you shitting me?”

 

“Apparently it’s a mess. He tried to requisition the motherfucking legal team to change how much meat is required to consider something meatloaf,” Fury said.

 

“…Is that a thing?” Clint asked.

 

“Hell if I know,” Fury said “Just corral your damn husband. Before he decides to start actually acting on his reform ideas.”

 

Clint was still a little confused, but gave a sloppy salute. “You got it sir.”

 

“Oh, and Barton,” Fury said as Clint stood. “Tell your fucking cohorts to leave Sitwell alone. Or your next liaison won’t be so friendly.”

 

Clint shrugged and the vein in Fury’s forehead became more prominent. “Where and how Natasha decides to clean her weapons is her business. Same for what Stark does with his robots and when Bruce brews his noxious herbal teas.”

 

“And what about Thor fucking braining Sitwell with a Wii controller?” Fury asked.

 

“That was an accident. Tony’s working on a more secure wrist strap,” Clint said. “The easiest way to get them to stop is to give us back our real handler.”

 

“Not yet, agent,” Fury said.

 

“Then Sitwell’s going to have to suck it up in the meantime,” Clint said. He liked the other agent. He was always up for drinks and karaoke or, on one memorable occasion, strip poker. The problem? Sitwell wasn’t Phil.

 

“Get the fuck out of my office,” Fury said.

 

“Already gone,” Clint said as he left the room.

 

Despite city traffic, Clint made good time to his husband’s cover apartment. Which was another thing that pissed him off. Phil couldn’t live in Avengers Tower while he was undercover. That didn’t stop Phil from staying at the Tower on weekends or Clint from crashing at Phil’s apartment, but the commuter marriage thing was fricking annoying.

 

Unlike some undercover operations, SHIELD had sprung for a decent apartment in a nice area. Clint didn’t know if it was due to Phil’s status or if they just felt bad about the stabbing thing, but he was grateful.

 

“Phil?” Clint called as he let himself into the apartment.

 

“Office!” came the muffled reply.

 

“So I just had a weird conversation with Fury,” Clint said as he walked through the living room to the second bedroom that had been converted into a home office. “He thinks you’ve gone…” Clint came to a dead stop in the doorway “Holy shit.”

 

It looked like Phil was channeling an episode of _Hoarders: Buried Alive._ There were papers haphazardly arranged on the floor and the printer was churning out a fresh stack. Thick books were sitting open in some places and in others were stacked like one of Tony and Bruce’s unfinished Jenga games. A truly terrifying number of coffee mugs were scattered around the room. A large whiteboard on wheels had been acquired from somewhere and was covered in numbers in a rainbow of colors. There was also a doodle in the bottom left corner of…five teenagers hanging upside down over a large fire? One of them had a bucket on his head.

 

Phil was at the center of it all, hunched over his computer and typing furiously with what could only be called a manic gleam in his eyes.

 

“Phil? Babe?” Clint asked, stepping into the room.

 

“Did you know that the average school budget dedicates five percent to pencils? Pencils! And the main supplier for New York City’s public school system is robbing them blind. And for the kind of pencil the average classroom pencil sharpener will grind into a convoluted blob of wood and graphite. Cheap-ass hardwoods. Not at my school, damn it. I’m in negotiations with a manufacturer who can get me quality merchandise at half the cost. That will open up the budget in other areas, especially if we cut back on the meat in the meatloaf. Damn Fury not letting me use the legal team...”

 

“Babe? How much coffee have you had?” Clint asked.

 

“I ran out. Coffee is for the weak,” Phil replied, still typing.

 

“I think Tony might disagree with you there,” Clint said. “Maybe you should take a break.”

 

“No time. The budget is in shambles and it’s up to me to fix it,” Phil said.

 

“Right…I’ll be in the living room when you get done,” Clint said, leaving the room.

 

He hadn’t noticed it coming in, but the living room was apparently the new legal library. Clint shifted just enough books to clear a space on the couch, sat down and dropped his head into his hands.

 

A vibrating from one of the pockets of his cargo pants caught his attention. He pulled his phone out and resisted the urge to groan when he saw who was calling. Against his better judgment, he answered the call.

 

“What, Stark?” he asked.

 

“Barton! Buddy! What did our esteemed not-boss want? He didn’t decide to send you to the ass-end of nowhere, did he? Because that would mean you’d miss movie night. And we’re showing Steve and Thor the wonder that is the _Lethal Weapon_ series.”

 

“Why? There are better buddy cop flicks,” Clint replied.

 

“Yes, but this is our resident Captain and demi-god’s introduction to Mel Gibson. This way they’ll understand my references.”

 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Tony I really don’t have… actually, can you give the phone to Nat?”

 

“Why?” Tony asked.

 

“Because I need to talk to her and you’re already calling me,” Clint said.

 

The sigh the inventor let loose could only be described as put-upon. “Fine.”

 

“Where’s the mission?” Natasha’s voice came down the line a few seconds later.

 

“It’s not exactly a mission. Phil’s gone native,” Clint said.

 

“Coulson’s gone…you know what? I’m going to put you on speaker,” Natasha said.

 

Clint jolted to his feet “What? No!”

 

“Clint, back in the old days I was alone when it came to helping you deal with your relationship issues. I watched you pine over Phil for years. And I can gage the severity of a fight based on how much Ben and Jerry’s you ate in the aftermath. I have back up now. I’m going to use it,” Natasha said.

 

Clint sat back down and thumped his head against the back of the couch. This was not how he’d wanted this conversation to go.

 

“Okay, Clint. Start from the beginning,” Natasha said after a moment of silence. There was a slight echo to her voice, but Tony had supplied all of the Avengers with the latest StarkPhones, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

 

Clint sighed and launched into the story, starting with the conversation in Fury’s office.

 

“I do not understand. Why would you wish to reduce the amount of meat in the loaf-shaped meat? Would it not then simply be loaf? Such a choice would make it much less pleasing to the palate,” Thor was the first person to speak after Clint finished the story.

 

“Forget that, Coulson’s finally cracked!” Tony said. There was a loud “THWACK” on the other end of the phone “Ow! Why, Bruce? I thought you loved me!”

 

“It sounds like Phil’s overworking himself,” Bruce said.

 

“You need to get him away from the budget,” Steve added.

 

“Great idea, but I don’t know how to do that,” Clint replied.

 

“Perhaps a distraction would be wise,” Thor said.

 

“Oooo! You said he’s got a white board in there. Stand naked in front of it,” Tony suggested.

 

Clint blinked. “Not that I’m complaining about being naked around my husband, because it’s one of my favorite pastimes, but I don’t think Phil would notice if I lit myself on fire and jumped out a window screaming ‘Flame On’ at this point.”

 

Clint could practically hear Tony shrug. “It’s worked on me.”

 

“Tony!” Steve hissed in what was probably supposed to be a quiet tone.

 

“Huh. That might be too much information,” Bruce said after a few seconds of shocked silence.

 

“I’m reminded why we don’t do group phone calls,” Natasha said thoughtfully.

 

“You’re just now remembering that?” Clint knew he sounded vaguely hysterical, but between his husband’s new obsession with school finances and learning way more than he wanted to about Steve’s methods of pulling Tony out of his work, he was having a stressful day.

 

“Okay. Getting back on track. Clint, do you need back up?” Steve asked, voice taking on his trademark “Captain America” tone.

 

“I don’t think so,” Clint said.

 

“All right. If you have to knock him out and bring him back to the Tower over your shoulder, you do it. But you need to get Phil out of that apartment.”

 

“Yes sir,” Clint said.

 

“Good,” Steve said. “We’ll see you when you get back.”

 

“Yes! You and the Son of Coul can join us in watching the adventures of Midgardian law enforcement!” Thor said cheerfully.

 

“I’m not sure that’s how…never mind. I’ll be back with Phil, later,” Clint said, bringing the call to an end.

 

Clint put the phone back in his pocket and considered the law books in front of him. Maybe… no. Only as a last resort.

 

Picking up one of the heavier-looking books and giving a practice swing, just in case, the archer made his way back to the study. For the second time in less than an hour, he came to a dead stop.

 

Phil had passed out, face down on his keyboard. His nose must have landed on the “J” key, because a string of the letters was marching across the page in lines like ants.

 

Quickly Clint crossed the room and ran a hand down Phil’s arm before lacing their fingers together. It was a long-practiced gestured, born of numerous operations in ill-advised sleeping locations. It meant “I’m here” and “you’re safe” and “please don’t shoot me in the face with the gun I know you have somewhere on your person.”

 

Phil startled awake, blinking rapidly and looking adorably rumpled.

 

“Hey, babe,” Clint said.

 

“Clint?” Phil asked.

 

“In the flesh,” Clint said. “Come on. Let’s take a break.”

 

Clint helped Phil stand and guided him back into the living room, shuffling books aside and settling them both on the couch with Phil tucked against his side.

 

“So, when Fury said you’d be going undercover, I didn’t realize you’d be so… enthusiastic,” Clint said.

 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Phil said, plaintive note in his voice.

 

“It was bad. I’m pretty sure you used official SHIELD contacts to buy pencils,” Clint replied. “And your office looks like a tornado hit it.”

 

“They weren’t official contacts,” Phil said.

 

“Really,” Clint replied.

 

“Well… they weren’t recent official contacts. We had something of a falling out in the late 90s,” Phil replied. “There was a disagreement regarding the appropriate cost of toner for an undercover op in Schenectady.”

 

“I’m not sure that makes it better,” Clint said. “What’s with the new interest in high school finances?”

 

Phil sighed. “I’m trying to keep busy. If I’m busy doing something, then I’m not thinking about how completely useless I am right now.”

 

“Whoa. Who said anything about you being useless?” Clint asked.

 

“Clint. They’ve got me undercover as an acting principal. I’m not even a fake real principal. I’m just the guy who fills in when the real principal gets eaten by an oversized space worm.”

 

“Is that what happened to the last principal?” Clint asked.

 

“No. The Frightful Four invaded the cafeteria looking for Spider-Man and the principal got caught in the crossfire. But the point is, I’m worthless right now,” Phil said.

 

“You’re not worthless. You got stabbed in the chest by an alien spear. You were dead for a full minute and it was a lot closer to permanent than I like to think about. Hell, you’re still doing physical therapy,” Clint said.

 

“Only once a week,” Phil pointed out.

 

“So? Point is, you’re still recovering. You’re not cleared to be back out in the field yet and nobody expects you to be. I don’t know what this ‘next generation of heroes’ thing will look like in the long run, but you’re on it because Fury knows you’ll do right by those kids. All we have to do is stick it out and you’ll be back where you belong in no time,” Clint said.

 

“Back where I belong, huh,” Phil said.

 

Clint pressed a kiss to his husband’s hairline, then to his lips. “Yep. Back in Avengers Tower with me, where you can yell at Tony when he gives sentience to kitchen appliances,” he said as he pulled back.

 

A small, but genuine smile lit up Phil’s face. “Thank you,” he said, closing the gap between them again. The kiss was soft and over before Clint had time to coax it into something more heated. The sniper tried not whine when Phil pulled away, but the smirk on his husband’s face said he wasn’t as successful as he would have liked.

 

“Later,” Phil said, snuggling back into Clint’s side and tucking his head into the crook of Clint’s neck. It was a reversal of their usual positions, but there was something nice about it.

 

Of course, there were still things to do. Clint knew he would have to hide or burn the budget research to keep Phil from falling back into that trap and they would have to get back to the Tower before someone decided to come looking for them.

 

But for now? They were good where they were.


End file.
